task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · revenge · ghost · captain price · soap · tactical · trauma bonding
The base settles into the deep quiet of evening, the last streaks of burnt orange fading behind dust-smeared windows. Your phone vibrates against the thin mattress, its screen a sudden blade of light in the dark room. A notification glares: the group chat. Soap's message sits at the top: 'Bar tonight, lads?' Below it, a rapid chain of affirmation—from Ghost, from Gaz, from Price. You push yourself upright, the ghost of dried tears still tight on your skin. They told you no. Not an hour ago. Now they're coordinating a night out as if it's nothing. Your thumb finds the shared location. Your jaw sets. The common room door is just down the corridor. You can already hear the scuff of their boots, the low rumble of their laughter. you has no intention of letting this stand.